


Cage Match

by skivvysupreme



Series: The Cuffed Verse [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bullying, Cheerio Blaine, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Violence, Skank Kurt Hummel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3846979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>skank!Kurt and Cheerio!Blaine are a thing. But what the hell does that mean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cage Match

Kurt might have a boyfriend. Maybe. He isn’t really sure.

He stares at his last text from Blaine, a simple **_< 3_** sent about five minutes ago for no apparent reason, and he hasn’t a clue how to respond.

Well, the reason the text was sent is actually pretty clear; Kurt’s just struggling to process it. _Blaine Anderson likes me_ , he thinks, and that weird, bubbly, happy feeling in his chest fizzes at the thought. But that’s not all that text-heart says, is it? Blaine likes him. Blaine likes spending time with him. Blaine laid with him and kissed him and grinded with him until they both fell apart. This boy sees him—sees Kurt Hummel, not just a pink-streaked, studded Skank in a cloud of cigarette smoke—and he really likes him.

And, of course, they’ve decided to keep each other. But what the hell does that mean?

The problem with being a _thing_ , as they so obviously are, is that _things_ come in too many different sizes: something, nothing, anything, everything. Kurt thinks about asking Blaine exactly what sort of thing they are and a quick flare of panic seizes his throat, because isn’t it too early to say? Wasn’t their first conversation _four fucking days ago?_

At this point, does that even matter?

Kurt’s about to send a heart back to Blaine when his phone gets slapped to the ground and he’s shoved into the row of lockers in front of him. The pain in Kurt’s shoulder, when it hits the metal, blooms hot down his arm, shocking him out of his thoughts and sending his body into high alert.

“You got a problem, skank?”

“What the fuck?” Kurt spins around, face twisted up in confusion; three large boys in letterman jackets have crowded his space, pinning him. He doesn’t know these three by name, but he’s seen them around. Kurt quickly assesses the situation: the hallway’s empty, the bell having rang about ten minutes ago, and there’s no way around them. He’s faster than they are, he knows it, but they’re bigger and he is most definitely outnumbered.

“Seems like you and your boyfriend forgot the rules around here.”

“Seems like you forgot I’m not afraid of you,” Kurt retorts, scowling a little harder than usual since his first instinct is to make a giddy squeak at the word _boyfriend_ being flung at him. He lifts his chin and stands tall, staring them down. The pain in his shoulder has already started to fade.

“Oh, yeah, tough bitch Hummel, always got something smart to say, can’t keep your fuckin’ mouth shut. Your boyfriend’s the one who just drops and cries like a pussy.” The others laugh, one even going so far as to put his hands over his head and whimper, “No, please, stop, _waaahh!”_ as the others laugh and slap each other five.

Kurt never wanted to see it again, but he can’t help it: Blaine appears in his mind, as he did Friday afternoon under the bleachers, crying and covered in blue, uttering “Kurt?” so thick and shaky that it almost gains a syllable, his face crumpled in humiliation.

These are the assholes who did it. And now, these thick-necked, under-evolved pieces of shit are mocking him. It makes Kurt sick, seeing them revel in what they’ve done—revel in what someone else has done, really, long before these pricks got anywhere near Blaine. Kurt can feel his ears and cheeks getting hot, no doubt turning pink in his anger, and he starts to breathe heavily as the jocks turn their focus back to him.

Kurt commits each of their faces to memory.

“Oh, Hummel’s gonna cry, too! You scared, lady-boy?”

_No. Never again._

Kurt’s fist connects with the side of the nearest jock’s head and it catches him off guard; he stumbles sideways into the one on his right, and they both go down as the third shoves Kurt into the lockers and lands a hard fist into his stomach.

The punch completely knocks the wind out of him; Kurt falls to his knees, gasping for breath and trying not to throw up. It occurs to him, as it has occurred more and more since Thursday, that he probably should have had a plan going into this. Thinking things through and feeling them through are not the same thing. Kurt watches the other two jocks’ feet as they get back up, and all three crowd around him again, shouting obscenities and hideous slurs. He could stay down here, head bowed, until they let him go. That would be a lot less painful. Physically, anyway.

He thinks of Blaine, quiet and broken while Kurt cleaned him up in the girls’ bathroom. He hears that awful resignation in Blaine’s voice as he takes the blame for having the nerve to be himself in the hallways, because shit like this keeps happening and he should have learned by now that he’s not allowed love out in the open. Kurt’s temper flares again, and he knows that no physical relief from backing down will cool the anger, not while they think they can get away with it.

One of the jocks bends over Kurt, nudging Kurt’s curled-up body with his knee, taunting him. “Get up, Hummel! If you wanna fuckin’ go, let’s go!”

Kurt hears a classroom door open down the hall, and the sound of a girl’s voice follows. She screams for help, calling for a teacher and then for Sam—it’s Tina, Kurt recognizes now, so she and Sam must have been in the same class. Then Sam’s running down the hallway towards them, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as he yells at the jocks to let Kurt go.

Kurt lifts his head just enough to eye his target and punches the nearest jock in the balls, and as he doubles over, Kurt swings his head up, slamming the crown of his head into the guy’s nose.

Fuck it.

*****

 _It could be worse,_ Kurt thinks, flexing the fingers in both of his sore hands. His knuckles are purpling with bruises, as is his left cheek, and there are a few tender spots under his ribs and on his back. But they could have broken his nose, or torn his piercing. Knocked out a tooth, maybe. He sighs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall as he sits in the vacant hallway outside Principal Figgins’ office. It could always be worse.

“Oh my god. _Kurt_.”

Kurt immediately smiles when he hears Blaine. He slides his eyes open to see Blaine rushing towards him in a flurry of red and white. He drops into the white plastic chair next to Kurt, one knee on the seat and one foot still on the ground, and hugs him sideways. “Who was it? Did you see them?” He runs a hand through Kurt’s disheveled hair and gently turns Kurt’s face towards him.

“Hi,” Kurt says, grinning. He missed Blaine over the weekend. And this is boyfriend behavior Blaine’s exhibiting, he’s pretty sure. “How’d you hear about it?”

“Tina texted me.” Blaine narrows his eyes and swipes his thumb under the bruise on Kurt’s cheek. “I heard three guys ganged up on you. And Sam and the bio teacher helped break it up. Did you get a chance to see who it was or did they just jump you?”

“You told Tina about us already?”

Blushing, Blaine answers, “Yeah. Sorry, is that weird?”

“Nope. Are you skipping class right now?”

“I am.”

Kurt reaches over and slips a finger into the neckline of Blaine’s Cheerio uniform. “I’m a bad influence,” he murmurs. Blaine’s told someone about them. And now Blaine is here, worried, ditching class to fuss over him. Kurt can’t stop smiling. He knows it’s pissing Blaine off, because Blaine’s eyebrows have furrowed and he’s scooting closer in his seat, looking increasingly agitated, but Kurt can’t help the swelling, elated feeling in his chest.

Blaine shakes his head and says, “You’re being weirdly calm about this. Are you concussed? I think you’re concussed. We should take you to the nurse’s office, we can—”

“Blaine, I’m fine. I’m great, actually. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Blaine asks again, “Did you see who it was? I can’t believe they just ambushed you.”

“They did the same to you.”

“Yeah, but those were slushies, this was a fight.“

“I hit first.”

“What? Kurt, why?”

“Nobody touches you,” he says, voice low. Kurt’s body is still thrumming with adrenaline and he can’t muster a fuck to give about getting suspended for it.

Blaine settles in his chair, and Kurt can see the situation piecing itself together in Blaine’s head. “How do you know it was the same guys?”

“They didn’t make it difficult to figure out.”

Blaine takes Kurt’s hands in his own, running his thumbs over the bruises on Kurt’s knuckles. “Can you… not do things like this for me?”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Kurt snaps, pulling his hands away. “I may have done it with you in mind, but this was for me. You’re not the only one with a bone to pick with those glorified-fetch-playing douchebags.”

“Okay, but there were three of them, Kurt. _Three_.”

“I can count, Blaine.”

“Then why would you—? I’m sorry, that was so brave of you, but also kind of stupid.“

“Fuck off, Anderson.” Kurt turns away from him, crossing his legs in the opposite direction from where Blaine’s sitting.

Blaine sighs. “You call me Anderson when you don’t want to let me in.”

“Get over yourself,” he snarls, fighting down a visible shiver because _Blaine is right._ “We’ve been talking for four days, you don’t know me.”

“Kurt!”

 _“What?”_ Kurt looks back at him, intending to glare his whatever-the-fuck-Blaine-is into oblivion, and stops dead at the glare Blaine’s giving right back to him.

_"I don't want you to get hurt, okay?"_

Blaine's eyes drop to Kurt's lips for a second before he looks back up, searching Kurt’s eyes, and Kurt's nodding and pulling Blaine in before he can register the change in the air between them. Blaine leans forward, smashing their mouths together, and he lays an arm across the back of Kurt's chair and holds the back of his neck in the other. The kiss starts hard, but they ease up after a moment. Kurt drops his mouth open to catch his breath, but Blaine's tongue slips inside, stealing his breath away again. Blaine slides his hand up to Kurt's un-injured cheek, rubbing it lightly with his thumb, then softens his kisses until he can just lean their foreheads together.

Kurt rests a bruised hand on Blaine's thigh, and Blaine lays his hand gently on top of it when he whispers, "This is awful, seeing you all beat up. I hate this so much."

"That makes two of us, kid."

The loss of Blaine’s body heat when Blaine jerks away from him and leaps out of his chair is like being doused in cold water. Kurt looks over and spots his dad, Burt, standing a little ways down the hall. He’s staring Blaine down, giving him a scowl for the ages—a _Who are you, what are you doing, and why haven’t you left yet_ Burt Hummel scowl that Kurt hopes to perfect one day—as he makes his way over to the office.

“I gotta go talk to your idiot principal, and then, me and you are gonna drive home, Kurt.”

Kurt nods, meeting his dad’s eye, then glances over at Blaine, who stands frozen a few feet away from him.

As Burt enters Figgins’ office and shuts the door behind him, Blaine lets out a sigh and mumbles, “I should go, shouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you want to stick around and meet my dad?” teases Kurt, biting his bottom lip.

Blaine presses his lips together, shaking his head. “I… I think I need to prepare for that. He’s like a grizzly bear, Kurt, did you know that?”

Kurt snorts. “Yeah, I did, actually. But you’re right, you should go. Get back to class, you truant.”

Blaine looks around, quickly, and drops a kiss onto Kurt’s forehead. “I’ll text you. Are you going to be home after school’s over?”

“Just a wild guess, but I’m pretty sure I’m grounded. Why?”

Grinning, Blaine backs away, gives Kurt a wink, and disappears down the hallway.

Kurt realizes, then, that he never asked Blaine the question that’d been nagging at him all morning, but a few minutes later, it turns out that he doesn’t have to. Just as Burt emerges from Figgins’ office, a Facebook notification lights up Kurt’s phone:

 _Blaine Anderson_  
_Relationship request_  
_Confirm | Ignore_

“Come on, Kurt. Let’s go.”

Kurt leads his dad to his locker so he can grab his things, then follows him out to the parking lot so Kurt can get his car and follow him home. Burt doesn’t say much on the way to his locker, or in the parking lot, but Kurt knows he’ll be in for it once they get back to the house.

Sure enough, when they’ve parked both cars and made it inside the foyer, Burt clears his throat and asks—though it isn’t where Kurt expects him to start—“So, who was that cheerleader eating your face when I got there?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, struggling to contain his smile, and, as if it’s nothing, answers, “He’s my boyfriend.” He looks down at his phone, where he keeps staring at the new addition to his timeline.

**_Kurt Hummel is in a relationship with Blaine Anderson._ **


End file.
